


The Sundering

by A_Cosmic_Elf



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Ghost BC Reverse Big Bang 2020, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26405758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Cosmic_Elf/pseuds/A_Cosmic_Elf
Summary: "For years he had imagined this reunion, but he hadn't anticipated that it would be like this..."A collaboration by the talented artistMetanoia_Rainbowsand myself for theGhost Reverse Big Bang 2020.Pairing at the artist's request.With thanks to my beta readers the lovelyGhoulfatherand the wonderfulCara_mia_sinnerwho advised on the Italian language used in this fic.Please feel free to leave us a comment or drop us a line using any of the links below in the notes and let us know what you think!"...You know why they have to remain Nameless! Remember when they all found their names? It caused The Sundering!" - Sister Imperator ('An Invitation from The Clergy'by A Cosmic Elf)
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Papa Emeritus III
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: Ghost BC Reverse Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cara_mia_sinner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cara_mia_sinner/gifts).



> Artist's blog on [tumblr](https://sincthulhu.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Writer's blog on [tumblr](https://a-cosmic-elf.tumblr.com/)
> 
> All comments & kudos, likes & asks are welcome! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Enjoy! ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For years he had imagined this reunion, but he hadn't anticipated that it would be like this...

“If his eminence the Cardinal could remove his mask for one moment please!” Asked the artist from behind the canvas. 

Copia’s heart gave a sharp anxious twist; he hadn’t expected this. This was his first time posing for a portrait with His Unholiness, Papa Emeritus, Third of His Name, Leader of the Church of Ghost. Copia knew that it was important, but thought he’d been asked because a more senior Cardinal wasn’t available. Or perhaps they had become bored with the amount of time one has to stand motionless for an artist. He had also assumed that he’d be posing with a stand-in. A potent mixture of surprise and fear washed over him when he discovered that it was Papa himself. Copia could hardly believe he was there, not only in his presence, but he was asked to _touch him._

This picture was to commemorate the festival marking the end of the last tour and the winning of the Grammy. A trinket that the humans put so much stock in, and surely would cement Emeritus the Third’s hold on the throne. As Copia stood there, he dearly wished that the ground would open up and swallow him. For years he had imagined this reunion, but he hadn’t anticipated that it would be like this. Slowly he removed his mask and directed his anxious gaze at the artist.

“Wonderful!” Exclaimed the artist, “If you could hold that expression please!”

Copia had been adopted into the Church, but he was never quite sure why. The Emeritus brothers, half-human and half-demons, were a strange family. They were all descended from Papa Nihil, each having been born into the Church as a result of the Demon Pope’s fondness for the Sisters of Sin. Papa’s official consort and head of the Sisterhood, Sister Imperator, was not their natural mother. Still, she treated every one of the Emeritus brothers as if they were her own. Including Copia, who had been found as a baby, left swaddled in a blanket on the steps of the castle. She immediately took him in. Despite Sister Imperator’s affections, Copia had always felt that he was different like he didn’t quite belong.

When they were young he had idolised his adopted brothers, he trained with them, in the scriptures, in swordplay and horse riding. He would follow them around everywhere. They’d get up to all kinds of mischief in the castle grounds, running across the forbidden fields, losing each other in the hedge maze (though they each knew the correct route like the back of their own hands) and daring each other to enter the family crypts. The older two brothers made it clear that they didn’t care much for Copia and would often tease or trick him. Still, the youngest Emeritus, one that Copia would affectionately refer to as ‘Ems’, he was kind and gentle towards Copia. Over the years the two of them had become the best of friends, virtually inseparable in fact.

Eventually, the oldest Emeritus inherited the Papal throne, from his father Papa Nihil, and was taken away to a life of seclusion and admiration from afar. Leaving the other two Emeritus brothers, who rarely saw eye-to-eye, to fight it out between them over who might be next in line for the throne. The joke was that neither believed that their older brother would be able to sire an heir before his term was up.

There was change afoot. Where traditionally a Papa rules until their ‘death’ (not that a demon can ever really die in the mortal sense), Papa Nihil had unusually retired, often thought to be at the behest of Sister Imperator, and a new Papa was appointed to appeal to the younger crowds. To get the message out there, to increase the visibility of the Church of Ghost, to spread the power and love of Satan and everything that He promised. 

The first album was an instant success. However, Satan demanded more. He always does. A new direction, another fresh start. 

Another Papa Emeritus. 

The second son was overjoyed at having been promoted, almost unbearably so, Copia was glad to see the back of him finally. But there was a change in his friend, Ems. His usual cheerfulness and playfulness disappeared and was replaced by a melancholy that Copia had not seen in him before. 

One night during a packed service in the Cathedral, Ems confessed to him, “They are testing us.” Copia raised an eyebrow and looked sideways back at Emeritus, who was sitting beside him in the chapel during mass. Once again, his friend leaned across to whisper in his ear, “To see who will make the most worthy successor. I will be next.”

“Do not worry, Amico mio,” Copia said, keeping his voice soft and low, “Papa has some mileage left in him yet. He’s just made that record, yes? The one with the human rock elite? All will be fine. If there is such a test, he has passed it, I am sure.” He sidled closer on the pew, risked taking Ems’s hand and whispered: “But if they do make you Papa, what a glorious sight that would be.” To his surprise, Ems did not recoil. Instead, he threaded his fingers through Copia’s, and there they stayed, hand in hand in the gloom until the end of the service. For Copia, the closing sermon had come too soon. He had enjoyed this new feeling of closeness, so much that there had been a stirring in his pants, he had been glad of his loose-fitting cassock.

That night, alone in his cot, Copia touched himself. He couldn’t help it, visions of him and Ems together, naked, kissing and other things, filled his head. Of course, Copia had always known that he was sexually attracted to men as well as women, he had always had these feelings, but he had assumed that Ems preferred to choose exclusively from the ranks of the Sisterhood. _But he had held his hand! Perhaps there was a chance that Ems felt the same way about him too?_ As he gripped himself tightly, the thought sent a wave of sinfully delicious orgasm through his body, and he covered himself with his own warm seed as he laid there in the dark. Instant relief was followed with the immediate feeling of guilt. He had just jacked off to the thought of fucking his best friend. What in Hell was he doing, and why did he feel like Satan was laughing at him?

It wasn’t long before Satan gave Copia his answer. 

Copia will never forget the day Ems ascended to the throne; it was simultaneously the best and worst day of his life. As he knelt in front of His Unholiness, the new Papa Emeritus, Third of His Name, sitting on the papal throne in the packed cathedral. Resplendent in his new vestments, a dazzling vision in black, gold and royal purple. The mitre of his rank upon his head, his beautiful face masked behind fresh corpse paint. One of those gorgeous green eyes Copia had known so well had turned the brightest of whites. Emeritus stared down at his once ‘little brother’ and offered him the ring on his left hand to kiss. Copia’s heart was breaking as his lips touched the cold hard stone, his eyes never leaving Emeritus’s. That green eye shining with life while the white eye, dead and lifeless, the mark of a serving Papa, seemed to be able to see directly into Copia’s soul.

Copia knew then that he was in love with him, only it was too late, he had lost him forever. Ems was the anti-pope now, the voice of Satan on this earth. He spent his time preaching to the masses, basking in the adulation of the faithful. Under the protection of the Ghouls and entirely out of Copia’s reach. The reigning Papa was always in demand; his time was carefully orchestrated by a legion of Cardinals with the Ghouls never very far away.

The Nameless Ghouls. They were demons summoned from Hell to protect the serving Papa. There had been many over the years, but currently, five would join him on the stage. They all wore long black tunics, with wide sashes at the waist, similar to the Cardinal’s vestments, beneath which they wore smart black pants with dress shoes and white spats. Their real faces covered with horned masks, the colour of steel, each with the same mouthless face, a pointed nose and dark holes from which their eyes shone brightly; as if to give away their otherworldly nature, at least it seemed that way to Copia. 

Despite being officially nameless, the faithful had begun to grant the Ghouls their designations. It all started when the Rhythm Guitarist’s habit of playing a guitar adorned with the ancient symbol of ‘Omega’. It didn’t take long for the faithful to designate the Lead Guitarist to be ‘Alpha’. But it didn’t stop there, soon all of The Nameless Ghouls had names based on the elements and which instrument they played on stage. The ‘Water Ghoul’ was the Bassist, ‘Air’ on the Keys, ‘Earth’ behind the Drums, while the Lead Guitarist became ‘Fire’. The Rhythm Guitarist, the one that had started this cult of the Ghouls, ‘Omega’, also became known as ‘Aether’. They were beginning to become very popular. But not once had they neglected their duty to Papa. 

Copia, meanwhile, as a way to cope with his loss threw himself into his studies and within a few years he graduated to the rank of Cardinal, with the hope of at least being able to spend some time in the young Papa’s presence. Even just to look upon His Unholiness from afar was enough to make his heart soar and his soul sing. Only to crash into the depths of despair following every ritual. ‘Post-ritual depression’ they called it, but he suspected it had more to do with the way Papa had playfully slapped that Ghoul’s ass… or how he had fallen to his knees to serenade a lucky Sister of Sin...

Copia retreated even further in on himself, he had started to gain a reputation for being the weird loner in the Church, and he did nothing to dispel that myth. He cared not for the whispering and gossiping of the Sisters, the other Cardinals and Acolytes. He spent his free time alone, reading, playing and talking with his pet rats. They were the only friends he had left.

Sometime later, at the castle and lost in his thoughts, Copia had been returning from a lecture, and was innocently walking down the main hall towards the hostry when Sister Imperator had emerged from a side room and called him over. “Do you have your costume ready for tonight’s festival?” She asked him.

“Yes, Sister.” The young Cardinal had replied, with a small respectful bow.

“Well then, hurry up and put it on, you are to stand in for the artist!” She declared excitedly. Then added a “Quickly now!” When he froze to the spot. 

“Yes, Sister,” he repeated and scurried off to do as he was told.

Copia’s costume had arrived from the tailors just that afternoon, he hadn’t had a chance to try it on. It consisted of a fitted jacket in the medieval style. A doublet in dark Cardinal red, with black panelling and gold trim, worn over a loose-fitting silk shirt, teamed with skin-tight white hose and leather shoes. On his head, he wore a dark leather cap from which a dazzling spray of gold feathers over a black silk veil, similar to what the Sisters wore. The festival was also a masquerade and Copia’s mask was thankfully a very simple, shiny black porcelain affair that only covered the top half of his face. _At least I’ll be able to speak and enjoy a glass of wine unhindered_ , mused Copia to himself in the mirror, then a sudden shiver ran down his spine. He usually hated these types of gatherings, but somehow tonight felt different.

Appropriately dressed, Copia had been completely unprepared for the sight that had greeted him when he entered the drawing-room. For there he was, _Emeritus!_ It wasn’t the stand-in that Copia had expected. It was Papa Emeritus the Third, _in the flesh._

Papa’s costume was incredible, Copia could barely stop himself swooning at the sight. His Unholy Majesty wore robes befitting his royal title, in a similar style to Copia’s only black and far more intricately embroidered in gold and adorned with many gemstones, with elegant wide flowing sleeves, black hose and shoes. Around his neck hung his grucifix on many chains of gold beneath a stunning wide white ruff that covered his shoulders. His hair had been dressed in a feminine way and Copia adored it. He wished he could touch it. It suited the man he had known so well. Papa’s appearance was so dazzling Copia was dumbstruck. 

Papa didn’t look directly at the Cardinal, who must have seemed like just another masked minion to him, he just continued to stare serenely forward towards the artist. Copia was instructed to stand behind him and place his hand on Papa’s shoulder. It took all of Copia’s concentration to stop shaking, and now the artist had instructed him to remove his mask too. 

After what felt like an age the artist spoke again, “Wonderful! My eternal thanks, your highness, your eminence, that will do nicely!” Quickly with a respectful bow, the artist packed up their tools and left the room. Alone now, Copia removed his hand slowly from Papa’s shoulder as the anti-pope turned in his chair, his face changed in recognition of the man who had been standing behind him the entire time.

Finally, Papa broke the silence. “It is so good to see you, Amico mio,” he said with warmth, “Copia.”

Satan’s blessings, how he loved to hear him talk. How he loved the sound of his name on Papa’s lips. The way he enunciated each syllable slowly as if he was carefully tasting the words _‘Co-pi-aah’_ , it sent chills running down Copia’s spine. 

He suddenly realised that Papa was expecting him to speak. “My dear Papa,” Copia said with a small bow. His heart thumping in his chest, now he was here, he wasn’t sure he knew what to say. “Well, it seems that you have, indeed, passed their test. Congratulations on winning the award.”

Emeritus's face grew dark. He blinked as he looked at Copia and shook his head slowly. “He is never satisfied. He always demands more. Sometimes more than I wished to give.”

Copia didn’t understand, “But Satan is love, he is acceptance, he is freedom-”

“But not for me.” Papa cut him off, “Power is sipped from a poisoned chalice, my dear Cardinal, and success always has its price.”

“What price? The adulation of the faithful? They chant your name, they fall at your feet, the love they have for you-“

“The endless touring, the constant bickering of the Ghouls and never having a moment to myself? Why do you think I sat for the portrait in person? This the most peace I’ve had in years! But that’s not the worst of it,” Papa said, his beautiful voice cracking as he looked at Copia. “I was asked to forsake my one, true love.”

Copia could barely stand to hear it. “But Satan is your one true love.” He whispered, tears stinging the back of his eyes at the sight of his friend’s pain.

“That simply isn’t true,” replied Emeritus sincerely, fixing him with a stare that struck a discordant note.

The thought suddenly dawned on Copia; he realised the possibility that Papa was referring to him. He flushed with embarrassment. His second thought was _what if this was just a tease?_ This was Papa Emeritus the Third, sitting before him after all, he reminded himself. The man who made a living out of being flirtatious. Copia risked teasing him back and said boldly, “What you’re saying, Papa, could be described as blasphemy.”

Papa laughed, and he seemed if only for a brief moment, set free of the cares that had weighed him down. He beamed back at him. “Oh, how I have missed you, Copia.”

Copia was suddenly aware that he was taking up their leader’s valuable time, “I should go and attend to my duties,” he said anxiously.

“Before you do,” Emeritus drawled, stopping him in his tracks, “is there a boon you would ask of me? Everyone who sees Papa gets to make a request.” His Unholiness rose to his feet.

Copia thought for a second. This may be his only chance, who knows when he’d find himself alone in the presence of Papa Emeritus the Third again? He looked at his former friend; he couldn’t help it. He opened his mouth, and out fell the truth. “Please your Unholiness, if it is not too much, I beg of you, a kiss?”

A smile crept across Emeritus’s face and to Copia’s surprise, he approached. Copia stood transfixed like a rat unexpectedly caught in the light. The head of the Church in front of him, moving towards him with such purpose, such grace. His robes shimmered and hissed with his movements, he raised his arms and took Copia’s face in soft, gloved hands. They were eye to eye. He could feel Papa’s breath on his skin as he peered into those strange eyes. Papa began to run his thumbs over Copia’s lips, stroking his small thin moustache, ringing his heartstrings like a harp.

“I like it.” Emeritus said, inspecting Copia’s lips at great length, “It suits you.” He then looked deep into Copia’s eyes, hesitated for just a moment, and lent in.

 _Could this be happening?_ Thought Copia.

Their lips met, Copia felt like he would melt, a small groan of bliss escaped his throat as he gave in to the sensations. His knees grew weak. He thought he would fall and held onto Papa's arms to steady himself, silently willing him never to let go. The kiss grew more intense, Papa slid his tongue into Copia’s mouth and touched his own, caressing it lovingly for instant fireworks, a veritable concert of celebration exploding in Copia’s chest, and elsewhere... 

Not to be outdone, Copia responded by slowly sliding his tongue deep into Papa’s throat, whose fingers had tightened around the back of his skull, Papa’s grunt of surprise at the Cardinal’s unexpected reciprocation. Copia would have held him there all night if he could, locked in a back and forth exploration of each other’s mouths, their tongues dancing together. Oh, the taste of him, the feeling! How he wanted it never to end.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Papa breathed in sharply and moaned in frustration, withdrew his tongue following one more hungry lick at the Cardinal’s and slowly, his lips released his. That brief moment where skin peels away from skin, as if protesting the parting, their eyes locked together, the Cardinal’s hands still on Papa’s wrists. Papa stroked Copia’s cheek and let out a long deep sigh.

The person at the door knocked again. Papa barked in annoyance, “What is it?”

“The celebration, Papa, you are required downstairs,” came the muffled voice of one of the Ghouls.

“They can wait!” Papa growled back.

“I should let you go, you are busy,” Copia said, pulling away from him, his heart breaking in doing so. That was simply the greatest moment in his life! His oldest friend, the man he loved with all his heart, had put protocol aside for one moment, he had touched him, he had kissed him! Satan be praised! Copia almost stumbled to the door, amazed at what had just transpired.

“Oh really, Copia?” Papa called after him, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “now you leave?” 

Copia glanced back at His Unholiness, who stood like a statue, his eyes wide in astonishment, his now empty hands gesturing with disbelief. 

“Always leave them wanting more, right?” Copia replied with a smirk.

Emeritus gasped in astonishment, gave a small laugh with a dismissive sweep of his hand. Tutting, he shook his head but quickly regained his composure. “You always were such a quick study, Copia.” He said looking at him intently with a wicked smile, “but remember my... dear... Cardinal, they must also receive an encore.”

Copia’s heart twisted once again. It was his turn to take a sharp breath. There was a reason this man was the head of the Church, Emeritus the Third had a reputation for being the embodiment of charm and charisma; thousands had flocked to rituals since his ascension. To worship Satan and bask in his Unholy presence through the man before him, Emeritus. 

“You may join the celebration downstairs in the Great Hall,” Papa said, dismissing him. “Enjoy your evening Cardinal, but please, do not wander too far.”

With a low bow, Copia did as he was told, closing the door behind him.

🖤

_What just happened?_

Out in the dark hallway, Copia lent against the closed door, he clutched his hand to his chest, his heart raced. It took a few moments for him to collect himself. 

Finally, with a deep breath, he made for the stairs, only to find his way blocked by the all too familiar silhouette of a Ghoul. It laughed maniacally and sang, 

“Anything like the sound of a rat  
Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!"

Copia’s mood sank, _from the pinnacle to the pit, indeed_ , he thought. A Jester-Ghoul emerged from the shadows, clad from head to foot in purple and gold, the only Ghoul whose gold mask bore a face with a twisted smile, the many bells on his ridiculous costume ringing as he approached and continued to quote at Copia, in mocking tones. 

“Their ears are pink,  
Their teeth are white,  
They run about the house at night.”

Copia sighed, “What do you want, Special? Isn’t there-”

“Hush, motherfucker, I was just getting to the best bit.” The Jester-Ghoul snapped suddenly out of character, then he practically slithered across the space between them and continued, 

“they nibble things they shouldn’t touch,  
and no one seems to like them much…” 

Fixing Copia with those big green eyes he breathed in deeply and added, “But I’ve always liked the scent of him, like elderflowers and Juniper Sin!”

Copia couldn’t help but flinch. He had long suspected that Special was also half-demon, and somehow related to the Emeritus brothers. But he had never been able to prove it. A hybrid of sorts? _Perhaps Nihil had managed to impregnate a Ghoul?_ He wondered. There was certainly something different about this one. He was a wildcard, to whom the normal rules didn’t seem to apply. Copia was always careful around him and took whatever Special said with a truckload of salt.

“Well, well… If it isn’t the little rat fiend,” Special exclaimed, giving up on his failed performance. “Been confessing your sins to Papa?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” grumbled Copia and attempted to push past him.

The Jester-Ghoul stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, and said with no small amount of mirth, “funny how such a lie escapes lips painted with the truth.” 

Copia reached up and wiped Papa’s paint away with the back of his hand, irritated at having been caught out by the Ghoul, he replaced his mask.

Special giggled like a schoolboy, then all of a sudden, as if some kind of spell broke, his demeanour changed. “I wouldn’t get too attached if I were you,” the Jester-Ghoul said darkly. “These Papas… the Emeritus’... they never last.” 

“Oh?” Replied Copia, “Something tells me this one is different.” 

“You are gravely mistaken. Tonight a challenge will be issued. Events have been set in motion that will see the rat become a king.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” scoffed Copia, “Who told you that?”

“Oh, our missing problem child.” 

_Omega_ thought Copia. One of the Ghouls had been missing for weeks, his disappearance had caused quite a stir, “also one of the most talented and beloved amongst our followers,” he replied.

“Who thinks his horse can talk,” said Special sarcastically, as if he didn’t also possess a few toys in the attic, adding a small mocking laugh to prove the point.

The Cardinal huffed, “Oh all horses can talk you idiot, all animals do, it’s just a case of whether you chose to hear,” countered Copia, he wasn’t going to stand here and listen to any more of Special’s ravings, he'd heard enough and began to walk away.

“By the way, The twins wanted me to give you a message,” Special said.

 _This just gets better, and better,_ thought the Cardinal with dismay. The twins were another little anomaly in the Church. Often thought to be the unholy spawn of Special and some unfortunate Sister of Sin. They always spoke in unison and possessed the power of foresight. Truly demonic children, everyone feared them.

“Oh, yes? And what do the little devils want?”

“They said,” and Special quoted, “KACB EKIB RUO TNAW EW AIPOC LLET”, in a voice that was uncannily similar to the little darlings.

Copia let out an involuntary shudder.

Recently, the twins had ridden their tricycle over the Cardinal’s favourite flower patch in the ornamental gardens. He had confiscated the offending contraption, and in retaliation, they had broken into his room and stolen his favourite pet rat. Copia hadn’t had time to find out what the little hellspawn had done with him before they were sent away, to stay with the old sister who lived in a small lodge by the gates of the estate, so not to scare the festival-goers.

“You tell them to return Jimi, unharmed, and I will think about it.” The Cardinal told the Jester-Ghoul as he reached the top of the stairs. “Now, isn’t there somewhere else you should be, Special?”

The Jester-Ghoul gave a flamboyant bow, then turned on his heels and skipped away down the hall singing, “And should we reap the whirlwind, boy, there’s no need to despair.  
Amid the rubble and the filth, the rat will still be there!”

 _Mad little man_ , thought Copia, as he made his way down the stairs.

🖤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special quotes a number of rodent related poems in this chapter including:
> 
>  _’The Pied Piper of Hamlin’_ by Robert Browning  
>  _’Mice’_ by Rose Fyleman and  
>  _’Rats’_ by Alison Prince.


	3. Chapter 3

Downstairs in the Castle’s grand entrance, Copia found a few guests milling about, all in their festival finery, beautiful suits and dresses and oh... the masks! They were such a dazzling display, all shapes and colours. Some grotesque, all smiles, teeth, tongues and horns. Others were painted in intricate, colourful patterns like the Venetian masks of old, serene faces with lifeless eyes, masks that flared out like those of the Ghouls of the previous eras, full mouthless masks like the current Emeritus’s Ghouls. Often thought to be indicative that a Ghoul had no real voice in the Church.

 _The only voice that mattered was that of Lord Lucifer_ , mused Copia. A voice that now came through the man whose lips, if Copia closed his eyes, he could still feel on his own. Oh, how he loved him! Lost in that daydream, Copia’s heart felt weightless as he entered the Great Hall, his mood exuberant, his steps felt light. How could Satan stand in the way of such a love? _He wouldn’t_ , Copia assured himself. He watched them even now. He had brought them together, had encouraged their relationship. He had nurtured their feelings for each other. It is true, He had also torn them asunder with Ems ascension, but He’d also brought them back together _now_. Satan always had a plan.

 _“...but remember my... dear... Cardinal, they must also receive an encore.”_ Papa’s voice spoke again in Copia’s head, with emphasis on the _‘my’_. Copia’s heart leapt once again at the thought. _Does that mean that he will send for me before the night is through?_ He suddenly became aware that his choice of attire may have been unwise, his bright white hose were becoming very _tight._

Copia readjusted and suddenly found himself in the middle of the Hall, amidst the celebration and he hadn’t remembered how he got there. He looked around at all the Sisters and the other members of the Clergy, along with the lucky faithful who had been invited to this event, all were dancing, talking and laughing, hugging and kissing. 

As always, the night was meant to eventually descend into an orgy in Satan’s name. Already he could see one of his old adopted brothers, Papa Emeritus the Second, wasting no time. He stood off in the shadows close to the door, pushing a delighted Sister of Sin up against the wall. Her legs protruding over his hips, his naked backside hanging out of pulled up vestments. Copia was suddenly glad of his mask and the fact that he’d passed his former brother without the need to acknowledge him. He seems busy anyway, he thought, swallowed his disgust and looked away. Copia had no appetite for such displays tonight. There was only one person he wished to see so... disrobed. 

Instead, he turned and looked around the room. The Great Hall was an incredible place, it’s tall stained-glass windows, it’s high vaulted ceiling and chandeliers, reminiscent of the Cathedral in the nearby town’s square. A large banquet was laid out on tables lining the hall, with various benches and chairs full of people drinking and feasting. The Castle and this estate existed in both the mortal and spirit realms; between the time and space itself. It had become a useful and safe retreat for the Clergy. It was under strong enchantments to protect the Church, mortals could cross the threshold but only if they were invited and even then, they could not stay unless they chose to partake in some of the various delights that were on offer. Copia could see that all of the guests had made their choices. It seemed that Satan was feeling extremely generous tonight.

At the end of the room was a small raised platform behind which was a giant fireplace, not currently lit, it was too hot at this time of year. Instead, a hired band stood on the ‘stage’ before it, providing the evening’s musical entertainment. They were dressed as Ghouls but Copia could tell that they were human. _As a matter of fact_ , he thought, _where are the Ghouls?_ He glanced up and down the hall through the throng of dancers. He was trained to recognise them amongst the masked humans, yet he could not spot a single one. Something was beginning to feel very off... 

He glanced up at the balcony that ran the entire length of the hall. There was the empty throne, waiting for His Unholiness to appear, no doubt flanked by the real Ghouls. Beside were chairs occupied by the other high ranking members of the Royal Family. Papa Nihil could be seen deep in conversation with Sister Imperator. Papa Emeritus the First sat in on the other side, with a smattering of sisters surrounding him all chatting and giggling, one was massaging his feet. Copia could see that he’d clearly fallen asleep.

Copia sighed, protocol dictated that as an adopted member of the family he was never granted a seat on the balcony. Not that he ever minded, he wasn’t one to covet such things but now he dearly wished he could be seated as close to Ems as possible. He deserved to be up there, he should be up there. Instead, he was expected to mingle down on the floor with the other members of the Clergy. To do his duty as a Cardinal in The Church. To charm the pants off somebody new and corrupt them in the name of Satan. Instead, he sat down on one of the benches alongside a table, claimed a goblet of wine and sighed. His heart wasn’t in it that night. His heart was somewhere up there, backstage, probably fixing his make-up.

Suddenly as if summoned by his thoughts the music stopped and above them, on the balcony, the large double doors opened and out to the sound of riotous whooping and applause emerged Papa Emeritus the Third, indeed flanked by two Ghouls. _Only two, Water and Air,_ thought Copia, where were the others? Special was suspiciously absent too. Both Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator rose briefly in their seats, while Papa Emeritus the First woke with a start and finally did the same, exchanging a curt nod with his younger brother as he strolled past him.

Then Papa Emeritus the Third stood up to the railing on the balcony, holding his arms aloft and allowed the screaming and applause to continue. “Papa! Papa! Papa!” They chanted.  
Finally, a tentative hush descended as everyone anticipated the words of His Unholiness. Copia knew that anything Ems said next would be like putting a torch to a powder keg. 

Papa took a deep breath, “Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen, members of the Clergy and our honoured guests, I am so pleased that you were able to join us tonight, how are we all?” 

That just started the screaming again and he patted the air down with gloved hands and a patient smile and waited for it to subside. 

Oh, how the faithful loved him. It was a wonderful sight to behold, Copia mused as he sipped the wine slowly and let it warm his insides. Here he was, once again watching again from afar, only this time with renewed confidence. Renewed hope. There was his Papa. No doubt many people in that room would have given anything to have stood as close to him as he had earlier that evening. None would have been kissed as he had kissed Copia. As they had kissed each other. That moment was theirs and theirs alone. Even if he never got to stand next to him ever again, Copia would cherish that moment and take to his grave.

“We are here tonight to celebrate the homecoming, the end of the last tour and to celebrate a certain little win, yes?” Papa teased.

More raucous screams and whooping, someone from the ranks of the Sisterhood screamed “Fuck me Papa!” which caused another round of laughter. Papa smirked and nodded but his eyes wandered the room and then finally they found what they were looking for. Copia's heart soared once again with pride as he raised his drink a little and tilted his head back at Emeritus from behind his mask.

Papa seemed satisfied as having located him in the crowd below, broke eye contact and continued. “The night is young, feast, drink, dance! Oh and... don’t forget to fuck each other tonight in the name of Lucifer!”

More laughs, screams and whistles from the crowd in the Hall followed.“Hell Satan!” Called some, “Papa, Papa, Papa!” Chanted others. Emeritus turned and left the edge of the balcony to sit on the big chair, nodding to his Ghouls who nodded back. The music and celebration resumed.

That was a quick speech, though Copia, as he sat back down on the bench, thoroughly intending to just spectate and leave as soon as it was appropriate. _”...but please, do not wander too far.”_ It was as if he could feel Emeritus’s eyes casting a warm light upon him from above. 

That’s what made the Sister’s attentions so awkward. She was a pretty little thing, petite but curvaceous with long black hair held back in intricate plaits just above her ears, letting the rest fall loose in curls at her shoulders. Her skin was a stunning dark brown, glistening with a warm golden sheen. She wore a deep purple satin dress that held her ‘just-so’ at the waist with a bodice that pushed her breasts up and together in a way that made them look like they were begging to be set free. Her rosary hung about her neck with the gold grucifix of this Third Order, threatening to disappear down her cleavage. She wore a cream porcelain mask with gold accents that covered only half her face, exposing small but full lips painted the darkest of reds. She held her delicate hand out to Copia and invited him to dance with beautiful, dark, come-hither eyes.

This was an unusual experience for Copia, he wasn’t used to this type of attention. Of course, he had enjoyed a few encounters with a few of the lucky faithful who had been invited to these types of gatherings. He also had one or two relations with other members of the Clergy in the past too, but they had normally happened after a period of getting to know each other. And they hadn’t lasted very long. Most in the Church only knew him by reputation alone and so kept their distance from the weird little rat-man, who was a member of the family but somehow also wasn’t. He had been the butt of many jokes. Most never would have approached him openly like that. He guessed that the mask might also have had something to do with it, this delightful Sister just simply didn’t know who he was. He unbuckled his scabbard and placed his sword carefully down on the end of the table, before moving a little way onto the dancefloor.

As they danced together Copia held her respectfully at the waist and spun her around in time to the music, all the time his eyes locked with hers. On any other night, he may have been taken with her. The evening may have gone decidedly differently had it not been for the fact that they danced in the light of His gaze, Papa Emeritus the Third, still sitting on the throne above. To both Copia’s delight and unease, her moves became more sultry and she started to work her way further into his arms. She wrapped herself around him and even began to put those incredible lips to work on his neck. Others around them had started more intimate relations too. Copia couldn’t help it, he glazed up to the balcony to see Papa was indeed watching, very intently, his elbows resting on the arms of his throne, his gloved hands with fingers forming a steeple to his lips. Copia’s pants grew tight again and he could feel himself growing uncomfortably hard.

Copia began to wonder how he was going to get out of this one and still save face in front of Satan. Surely the Dark Lord would be overjoyed if he just opened his fly and released himself into this beautiful, lithe creature right here. She was obviously willing and nobody else would care. They were all around him doing the same thing to each other right now. _Perhaps Emeritus would enjoy it too?_ He thought. It was strange how the balcony seemed such a tame place tonight, not even the Ghouls were partaking in the evening’s delights. 

Just then a solution to Copia’s predicament presented itself in the form of the doors at the other end of the Great Hall suddenly being thrown violently wide with such force that the sound rang harshly throughout, as three Ghouls entered the Hall. The one known as Fire strolled confidently up the middle of the room, the astonished crowd parted in his wake.

The music slowly ground to a halt, as did the dancers, and those who had already begun more intimate relations, released themselves from each other to see what had caused the interruption to their desires and praises to the Dark Lord. All talk and laughter had stopped and was instead replaced by hushed murmurings and whispers throughout the Hall. Something about Fire’s demeanour demanded attention. 

Copia glanced up to the balcony where Papa could be seen still sitting on his throne, but he had dropped his hands, his eyes had narrowed but he made no move to stand or speak, he seemed to be waiting patiently for the Ghoul to explain himself.

“Good evening,” said the Ghoul, his voice muffled from behind his mask, but not enough that he couldn’t be heard. “We are sorry to interrupt the party but we, the Ghouls, have a few things we’d like to say.” He said turning to look up at Papa. More gasps and murmurs rose and fell in the background as everyone anticipated his next words. 

“Please do not keep us waiting, Ghoul, you are interrupting tonight’s offerings to Satan. This had better be important.” Papa replied in an annoyed tone.

“Papa has neglected his role in the Church, he wishes to take us in a new direction, abandon everything that we have created, once again. We are not happy with this change and we demand a resolution.”

Suddenly, there was a sound of ringing metal on the balcony above. The Ghouls on either side of Papa had drawn their swords and there was a chorus of gasps across the Hall as they each held a blade to Papa’s throat. “No, no, please!” Called a sister, while a few others wailed and screamed. 

Copia started moving forward but the Sister beside him grasped his wrist tightly and prevented him from leaving. “No, you can’t help him.” She hissed although he could tell that she was afraid. Fear gripped Copia too, the horror that he was just about to witness the death of his love at the hands of the Ghouls and that he was powerless to prevent it. 

Papa, however, had barely flinched. It was as if he’d been expecting it. He only stared forward, his eyes once again found Copia in the crowd. Copia glanced down at his own sword, the one that he had tossed aside to dance with the Sister. It laid there on the end of the table. He wondered how long it would take him to pick it up and unsheath it. _If Papa dies,_ Copia thought, _the Ghoul they call Fire will be next._

Upon the balcony, Papa Nihil got to his feet, “This outrageous!” He called. “This Church had stood for centuries! Never in our long history has a Ghoul threatened the life of a Papa, and the reigning Papa, at that.” 

This was unthinkable. Everyone knew that the Ghouls were summoned from the underworld. They were once humans who had descended into Hell. They were given a choice to return to the mortal realm and bask in the adulation of the faithful at Papa’s side. It was powerful magic granted by Satan himself but like all of His gifts, it came with a price. Their names.

Names had power in the spirit realms, to speak someone’s name was to invoke them. Chanting their name gave them great power. Similarly, to claim someone’s name was to have dominion over them. The Ghouls were bound to the Church by this spell. But losing one’s identity could be hard for some, especially for those talented enough to light up the stage beside Papa. 

There was a long and anxious pause as Papa closed his eyes, took a deep breath in. He then opened them again to fix the Ghoul known as Fire with that famous unnerving stare. “What do you want?” He said.

“We want our names. We want the recognition we deserve. We demand restitution for our work, and we shall have satisfaction.” Fire called up to him.

“I supposed the fact that we are on the cusp of true greatness, that the award has propelled the Church to new heights and opened doors that were previously closed to us, makes no difference to you?” Retorted Papa. “Or if I were to tell you that if you would just have a little faith in me, I will take you to the places you have only ever dreamed of-”

“Lies.” Fire spat back with venom. The Ghouls beside Papa each held their blades a little closer, almost like tightening the noose.

Papa eyed them both but continued to show no fear. “I do not speak of perhaps and maybe, this has been foreseen.”

Fire laughed, “you expect us to just take your word?” he said sarcastically.

“Mind your tongue, Ghoul, he speaks the words of Satan!” Shouted Sister Imperator. She also had not moved once during this entire performance. Instead, she sat rooted to her chair, her hands on the arms as if she was ready to spring at any moment. Her eyes glistened maddeningly, not through rage, but as if this was the best thing she had seen all year.

“I am the last of my line,” said Papa, “after me, there are no others. Kill me and you kill The Church Of Ghost. What would you have me do? I can grant you your freedom, that is all.”

“It is too late for that Papa. We demand satisfaction. We wish to lay claim to the Church.”

Nihil breathed in sharply to protest again but Papa raised his hand to silence him. “A challenge has been issued,” he said, “it will be answered. It is up to the challenger to decide the method.”

“A joust,” Fire announced.

Papa’s laugh was low and menacing, “Oh my dear Ghoul,” he said mockingly, “you do know that the horse I ride is pale, and its name is Death. You cannot win this.”

“I will not be competing,” Fire said, “by rights, we can choose a champion!” He motioned off towards the doors with one hand. One of the Ghouls who was standing by the door walked forward and strolled out of the shadows and into the Hall beside Fire. He was tall and thick-set and wore wide silver rings on his hands.

The audience gasped once more. Papa rose from the throne. The Ghouls beside him kept their weapons trained on him as he approached the balcony, placing his gloved hands on the rail. “Omega.” Papa addressed him, usually with the name he was given by the faithful. “I gave you what you wanted. I set you free. Yet you have returned?”

“To stand at my fellow Ghoul’s side and to be their champion, yes,” Omega replied. Clasping his hands together at his back he straightened his spine, looking up at Papa, blue eyes shining brightly from behind his mask. The audience gasped, there had always been rumours that the Omega had been somehow special to His Unholiness, rumours that had never been confirmed.

Copia sensed that there was more to this exchange than just the return of the wayward Ghoul. The tension between Omega and Papa was almost palpable. To Papa’s credit however, he seemed to keep his feelings under control, he took another breath in and sighed. “So be it. The tournament will be held tomorrow. For now, the Ghouls are free to go, with Satan’s blessings.”

The Ghouls all turned to leave. The ones in the Hall strode back through the doors, closing them behind them, revealing Papa Emeritus the Second, still going at it with a Sister like the entire incident had never occurred. Meanwhile, Copia looked back up at the balcony to find his Papa still standing there, alone now, the Ghouls now gone. Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil were behind and seemed to be trying to encourage him to leave. He was staring after the Ghouls, whether he was saddened or enraged, Copia couldn’t tell. Either way, he seemed unable to continue with the celebration.

After a long silence Papa suddenly spoke, the conversations of those below abruptly stopped and every face snapped round to listen to him. He sighed “I wish I could fuck every one of you.” Papa said, his voice strained, “but I am tired. The tour was long. I will retire for the night and prepare for the tournament. But you, my faithful, you may continue. Love one another in Satan’s name, take pleasure in each other and do not think of tomorrow,” he assured his followers, “the night is long and it belongs to you.”

“Papa, Papa, Papa!” They chanted back at him. 

Emeritus nodded with a forced smile, his eyes briefly fell on Copia who was still standing below as still as a statue, his wrist gripped tightly by the Sister standing beside him. As Papa turned away for a brief moment Copia saw that look on his face. Papa was once again his worried friend on that pew, back in a dark chapel, holding his hand in fear of being taken away. Copia’s heart felt like it would explode as Papa left through the doors behind.

The Hall was immediately full of hurried and loud conversation. Copia was unsure what to do next but before he could decide the Sister holding his wrist tightly pulled him towards her, she flung her arms about his neck. “Go to him,” she whispers in his ear, “quickly, this may be your last chance!”

Copia turned and looked at her in astonishment. His mind made up, he took her hand in his, kissed it and thanked her. Then turning on his heels he paused only to pick up his weapon and ran for the door. His heart pounding, his head spinning. What did she mean, his last chance? With the Ghouls gone who was protecting Papa? He pulled the heavy door open and slipped out into the castle’s entrance. It was deserted, not a person or Ghoul in sight. He ran straight across at the stairs at full pelt, taking two at a time, not even pausing as he ran past Special in the hall on the next floor.

The Jester-Ghoul was sitting on top of the bannister and laughed again wildly as Copia fled past then called after him, “The music stopped and I stood still, And found myself outside the hill,”

Copia didn’t wait to hear the rest and just kept running. 

“Left alone against my will…” said the Jester-Ghoul.

“Papa said you can leave, Special!” Copia called back over his shoulder.

“Leave? Leave! LEAVE-Lalala!!” The Jester-Ghoul bellowed after him, jumping down from the bannister and landing on all fours like a cat. All the bells on his costume ringing merrily he sprang to his feet and said with a sinister laugh, “Oh, my dear Cardinal, there is no leaving.” 

Copia hesitated and looked at him again for a moment, the Jester-Ghoul strode forward confidently but before he could reach him Copia took flight again. He wasn’t going to let the Ghoul stop him.

“No escape for you either, we are both prisoners here…” the Jester-Ghoul’s sing-song voice trailed away as Copia left him there. He almost felt sorry for the creature, whatever he was, Special had not been released like the others.

Finally, Copia reached the end of the hallway and skidded to a halt, where a pair of double doors led to the Sanctuary, a museum that stored all the relics in The Church. Just beyond it was Papa’s private wing of the castle, normally closed off and defended by the Ghouls, who were now absent. Before he never would have gotten this far, the Ghouls would have long ago intercepted him, with their questions and their games and their temptations. It took wits and a will of steel to get past them all. At least, past them and live. 

Copia took a hold of the door handle and surprisingly it opened. He entered into darkness, closing the door behind him, every sound he made echoing across the room almost as large as the Great Hall. He made his way through the various displays, all the relics of The Church and in pride of place was their newest acquisition. The Grammy was sat on a red cushion within a single glass box, set waist high on a pillar. Copia barely glanced at it. At the back of the museum was the heavy iron doors that led to Papa’s wing of the castle. His heart sank as he saw they were closed; as he approached however, they began to slowly open. Light from the walkway beyond began to flood into the museum. Copia ducked into the shadows among the displays and spied Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator emerging from Papa’s wing of the Castle. He didn’t reveal himself, only listened.

“I warned you, Papa,” Sister Imperator was saying, “we are going to need new Ghouls, and another fresh start.”

“These boys are too soft,” Papa Nihil complained, “they need a firmer hand with the Ghouls.” 

Sister Imperator shook her head, “I’m afraid this has gone too far. I believe Satan will require yet a new leader.”

“But who, after this idiot gets himself killed tomorrow, there are no others! We are finished.” 

“Oh no, dear Papa. I believe that there is one who could lead. One who could set us all free.”

“Then maybe we can finally leave this place?” Papa said to her, his voice full of emotion.

“Once suitable replacements have been found, I believe so yes.” Sister Imperator replied.

 _Replacements?_ What were they talking about? Wondered Copia. Why was it that everyone else seemed to want to leave, yet he was the only one running the other way, dying to reach the inner sanctum of the Castle? What had happened to Emeritus?

Papa Nihil then stopped and took Sister Imperator’s hand, holding it to his chest and said with reverence, “All those years ago, did you ever think that we would be here, my dear Elizabeth?”

Sister Imperator suddenly did something that Copia had never seen her do before. She smiled and blushed. She reached up and touched Nihil tenderly on the cheek. “Oh Papa, you haven’t called me that in centuries. Come, let’s shed this mortal form and give thanks to Satan in our own way,” she said with what seemed like the giggle of a much younger woman and led Papa Nihil away and out of the Sanctuary. 

Copia stood there frozen for a moment in the darkness. Trying to make sense of what he had heard. They may have given up on Emeritus. But he would not.

Quickly he slipped in through the iron doors just as they closed with a heavy thud, large bolts as thick as your arm slid across, seemingly of their own accord. It had a kind of finality to it. This was it, he was locked in here now. The point of no return. Hardly caring, just relieved that he’d made it, he ran through the covered raised walkway that connected Papa’s wing to the rest of the castle. 

🖤


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader Beware - herein lies the smut... ;)

At last, Copia reached the door to Emeritus’s chambers, only now aware of how hard his heart was hammering in his chest. He knocked, and through laboured breaths managed to say, “Ems, it is me.” 

The door opened and he stepped inside.

It was a reception room of sorts with dark wood panelling and full of ornate padded armchairs and sofas, and in a large chair at the end, similar to the throne in the Great Hall, sat Papa Emeritus the Third.

“I hope you know what you are doing, Cardinal.” he said in an ominous tone, “I fear you have just entered the cell of a condemned man.”

“You know I would follow you into Hell,” said Copia defiantly.

The room was softly lit with candelabras on the various side tables. Copia couldn’t see all of Papa’s face apart from a dark smile and his single bright white eye shining in the gloom. “And you are here to stay and burn with me.” recited Papa. 

Copia scoffed but refused to see light of this, “Emeritus, what happened tonight?”

“I lost control of the Ghouls. They found their names and became too strong. The spell broke. There was nothing I could do.”

“But you are Papa-”

“Satan is very clear on this matter. The bargain the Ghouls struck with him is now forfeit. Beyond that, I cannot control a person’s will, not even a Ghoul’s.”

“But the tournament?”

“Will go ahead as planned. But it is all just for show. The final round is in play and the pieces have already moved. Checkmate. I am on borrowed time,” Papa replied with resignation.

“Do you have to compete?” Asked Copia, fearful of Papa’s safety. Everyone knew that Omega was a formidable opponent. The Ghoul was unbeaten in tournaments, his prowess in the saddle was legendary. “Could you not choose a champion like the Ghouls did?” Copia pleaded.

“And lose face in front of the faithful?” Papa said with a small huff that told Copia that he had already considered the suggestion. “No. It has to be me. I have to be seen to put these Ghouls in their place. Or die in the attempt.”

Copia could barely stand it, he felt his heart breaking into pieces. How could they do this to Him? Emeritus the Third had done so much for The Church. This wasn’t fair.

As if he didn’t want to discuss the matter any further Papa quickly changed the subject. “So, my dear Cardinal, did you enjoy my little gift?” He asked, with a sinful smile, tilting his head slightly and raising an eyebrow.

_Always the tease_ thought Copia, he huffed and looked down to the floor trying to hide his embarrassment. Shrugging he replied, “I should have known she was one of yours. No one in The Clergy would ever approach me like that in public.” He said as he wandered up through the room closer to where Papa was sitting. As he did so he removed his gloves and mask and slung them aside, unbuckled his sword’s scabbard and dropped that too. The weapon fell to the floor with a clatter.

“And why is that Copia?” Asked Papa with the smile still on his lips, “saving yourself for someone else?”

Copia’s usual anxiousness had disappeared. Now they were alone with nowhere else to be. There would be no interruptions this time. Ems may now be Papa, Satan’s most highly ordained disciple, but he was still the man Copia had known and finally, he had him all to himself. The thought bolstered his confidence. “More like nothing else would compare,” Copia said boldly, raising his eyes to meet Emeritus’s.

Papa’s smile broadened and Copia was sure that under all that corpse paint his former friend had blushed the brightest of reds. “How can you compare anything to something you have never known?” Emeritus inquired, his eyes narrowing for a split second.

“Oh, I have a very active imagination,” replied Copia grinning. Finally halting in front of His Unholiness. 

Emeritus regarded Copia intently for a few moments. He then inhaled deeply as if he was about to be baptised and said, “All night you have tormented me. That outfit, so tight that it leaves very little to the imagination. You are so beautiful, Copia. Just the sight of you is so very inspirational.” With that, he opened his robes exposing an enormous erection. 

Copia’s breath hitched, dear Satan, look at him. For years he had only imagined this moment, he could barely believe what was happening. 

Papa stroked himself as he looked at Copia, “This could be my last night on this cursed earth. If I can’t spend it inside that temple of a body that you possess, I may as well put an end to it all. I ache for you, Copia, just look at what you do to me,” he purred as his hand gripped his shaft pulling it down, forcing the tip to bulge. 

Copia could barely keep his eyes off it. His remaining will collapsed and he fell to his knees in front of Emeritus. “Satan help me, for I...”, his voice trailed off as he lost the ability to even speak. _He’s astonishing._

Papa regarded Copia with hungry eyes. “I will hear your confession, Cardinal. Speak, you do not have to hide from me,” he said with no pause in his self-stroking. 

Copia cleared his throat and found his voice again, “Emeritus, I have loved you since we were young. I would have gladly laid with you, had you only asked!” He admitted. 

Emeritus closed his eyes briefly and lifted his face skyward as if he was basking in Copia’s words, gripping himself tighter, he gave a little grunt and increased the pace. The light of the candles cast deep shadows across the room but the now glistening cap of Papa’s phallus told Copia all he needed to know.

“Please,” Copia pleaded with him.

“Approach, dear Cardinal,” Emeritus said his voice dark, and husky, “taste of my desire to make those dreams come true.”

Copia could barely believe what was happening as he crawled his way towards the throne. Shaking uncontrollably he gripped Papa’s vestments to steady himself as he took a position between the unholy pontiff’s legs, eye to eye with his glorious towering member. He looked up at Papa, who seemed just as enthralled by this sight as he was, a wry smile cracking at the corner of his mouth. 

“Do not fear. If you please, Cardinal. Eat me. Drink me. And you’ll see the light.” Papa instructed, his dead white eye striking Copia with the commandment, while his green shone bright with anticipation.

With renewed confidence Copia opened his mouth and ran his tongue from the base of Papa’s perineum to the top of his unholy member, tickling the underside of his helm and lapped with the tip of his tongue across the small opening on the head. 

Papa moaned, “Dear Copia, we are doing Satan’s will tonight. Must I beg you to take me in your mouth?”

Copia did as he was told, he opened his lips wide and swallowed him. With that first suck Copia’s whole world fell away, the only thing that mattered was now, this moment. Emeritus and his unholy staff that the Cardinal now fully intended to suck dry. He somehow found the strength to grip him tightly at the base and slipped his other hand underneath, caressing the soft skin where his middle finger found a sweet spot to rub. 

Papa briefly threw back his head and groaned, “Yes. Yes, this is what I have wanted. Oh look at you, how beautiful you are, and my wand in your mouth,” he said triumphantly, writhing beneath Copia’s administrations. He let go of the arms of his throne and placed his hands on Copia’s head, caressing his hair as the Cardinal continued to suck with greedy little grunts of bliss. Papa’s eyes rolled in his head.

To Copia, he tasted amazing, like warm salted liquorice with a hint of blackberries. 

Papa gave out another low growling moan that turned into a wicked laugh, “Yes! Now you’re making me wish that we had had this pose painted,” he said gleefully. “Oh, how I would have cherished it!”

Copia released him to reply, “Something tells me that Sister Imperator would not have approved.” Licking him again and moaning. 

“TO HELL WITH HER!” Papa shouted with venom, “I am the voice of Satan, I command you to continue.” Emeritus’s temper flared, only to be silenced once more with a renewed lips around his throbbing organ. “You are not to stop, do you hear me?” He said. “Nothing will cease this unholy union. Taste me, fulfil your desire, it is my turn to demand satisfaction.”

Copia gratefully complied and sucked even harder. Papa continued to stroke his hair, but couldn’t resist sliding his hand round the back of Copia’s head, pulling him down further until the head of Papa’s organ reached the back of Copia’s throat.

“Oh, Copia…” Papa exclaimed in a half-whispered gasp. 

It struck a note of deep longing inside Copia, he would have happily died at that moment. Deep throating his former best friend who had ascended to be the closest to Satan, Copia would have gladly given his life right there for him. He would have opened his own chest with his dagger and offered Emeritus his still beating, bloodied heart had he commanded.

Instead, His Unholiness had an order of a different kind and moaned, “Nurgh, stop. You must stop. I must have you. On my bed, now.” Papa said through snatched breaths. 

Copia released him and fell back on his heels as Papa rose to his feet, his robes shimmered in the light as he swept past to open a hidden door in the panelling behind the throne. He gestured for Copia to enter. It was the Papal bedroom suite. Copia felt as if he was in a dream as he entered the opulent room, with its high vaulted ceiling and the huge canopied four-poster bed in the centre. It had been prepared like a bridal suite, sumptuous quilts and cushions in dark red tones and gold trim against the darkest woods, and strewn with rose petals. More bunches of wild red roses in vases of all shapes were stood on the floor and the bedside tables, also laden with sweet treats and bottles of wine.

On the other side of the room behind a half-drawn back room divider behind which was a large roll-top bath, steam rising from the water within. Candles burned in small clusters on plates and in the odd candelabra set here and there, bathing the room in soft, flickering light. The air was heavy with the scent of all the flowers, burning wax and of Him. Emeritus, his princely robes hissed as he moved across to one of the long tables and took off his gloves, and then his ruff and laid it down.

Copia then noticed the gentle tinkling tune that was coming from the music box by the bed. “Do you like it?” Emeritus asked him. “It’s a new composition. I’m not sure what to call it yet.” He turned and as he looked at Copia, still standing in the doorway, he slid a hand into his robes at the neck and pulled on a cord. It snapped and his heavy garments fell away in a heap on the floor, he was entirely naked underneath, his erection still taking centre stage. He opened a small drawer by the bed, took out a small glass jar of lube, which he began to rub over his glorious member. 

Copia swallowed hard.

“So,” said Papa breezily, as if this was the most mundane of things to be doing while conversing with an old acquaintance, “how about it Cardinal? Will you join me in one last dance macabre?” 

Awestruck Copia nodded and whispered, “anything to be touched by His Unholiness.”

“Come, come now Copia,” sighed Emeritus, taking a pair of black gloves out of the drawer and pulling them on, flashing the false gold fingernails on the tips. “It’s me, I may be Papa, but you are still the first person that I ever fell in love with. I find it quite poetic that you will be the last I get to fuck. Satan is such a fan of irony. Even though it pains me to have to say it, I need you to remove that delightfully tight outfit.”

With much anticipation Copia stripped as he watched Papa continuing to pleasure himself, suddenly realising Papa’s eyes were fixed on his own manhood that stood proud in Copia’s excitement. Finally being alone with his Papa, after so long of dreaming of this moment.

Emeritus approached once again, taking the Cardinal into his arms for yet another hungry kiss, softly pulling at his lower lip with his own as he pulled away travelling down Copia’s neck and burying his face into the flesh where his neck met his shoulders. He ran his gloved hands down Copia’s back and massaged his backside, pushing each other’s hard organs into one another’s groins, the two of them groaning at the feeling.

Emeritus then took the Cardinal by the waist, turned him to face the bed and gently laid him down. Running those gloves with the pointed fingernails over the skin on Copia’s back. The Cardinal shivered under Emeritus’s touch. 

Ems lent low over Copia and whispered: “After that earlier display in the hall, did you really think tonight was going to end any other way?” 

“I dare not hope, Your Unholiness, for I am not worthy of your affections.”

“Don’t be ridiculous man,” Emeritus replied, “You are in fact, the most worthy.”

He pushed Copia further into the cushions. Copia glanced up and noticed the dressing table across from the bed, he could see their reflection in the wide mirror running along its length. Papa stood naked behind him, except for the corpse face paint and gloves, running his gold fingernails over Copia’s skin with an expression of sheer admiration of the naked Cardinal lying on the bed before him. Emeritus’s eyes then rose and met his gaze in the mirror. He leaned in again, once more laying that hard member across Copia’s ass and confessed, “Oh yes, I like to see your face when I fuck you, and He likes to watch.”

Mirrors were strange magical things in the spirit realm, some were portals to other planes of existence, Copia could see shadows and wisps of smoke around them in the mirror, perhaps the odd shape of a being. It quickened his pulse as he felt His Unholiness lean in and place his hot and hard member in between Copia’s butt cheeks, which Copia, in turn, squeezed together as strongly as he could, making Emeritus gasp in delight.

“Ah, such a tease,” Emeritus purred in his ear. He then lent back again, releasing himself from the Cardinal’s grip. He ran his fingernail down Copia’s crack, finding his hole and gently slipped a gloved finger in. Copia stiffened. “There you are…” Emeritus whispered, locking eyes with the Cardinal in the smoke-filled mirror, and slowly withdrew his finger.

Copia could feel Emeritus probing his opening with the slick tip of his cock, which then pierced him. He cried out a little at the feeling. Emeritus stopped, looked at him intently again then pushed forward some more, stretching the Cardinal a little wider. Copia’s cry grew a little louder, it was one of pain, of love and utter rapture at having Emeritus inside, tears of joy spilt down his face, streaking his makeup. Emeritus applied more pressure, pushing himself further in. Copia couldn’t help it, a wave of bliss hit him with such force he almost passed out as his vision swam. 

Papa held him tightly, then thrusted, “Sweet Satan, how tight you are!” He exclaimed, grabbing Copia by the hips and thrusting again. 

The world stood still for Copia as wave upon wave of ecstasy washed over him. He was powerless against this relentless onslaught. Papa was so deep now it was almost as if he could feel him in his throat. Every thrust dragging him further under this sea of sensations. He lost track of time and countless times Emeritus launched yet another orgasm within him. Copia had never felt anything like it. If this was a way to die, he would have gone happily. Emeritus was almost howling with delight, fingernails on his gloves bit into Copia’s skin as he held onto his hips tightly for another delicious thrust. Copia had no idea how long they’d been at it when Papa’s climax came hard and fast, He burst forth into Copia, who could feel Papa spasm within, filling him utterly.

Emeritus screamed as he came and still pumping away, with laboured breaths he said: “Dear Copia, my sweet Copia, I can die content for I have fucked you at last!”

Copia collapsed on the soiled sheets, unable to find his voice or the strength to do anything but breathe. Papa released him and withdrew, throwing himself down on the bed beside him.  
”Sweet Satanas, what an encore!” He declared half laughing.

Copia scoffed, his voice muffled in the sheets.

Emeritus then slapped his gloved hand across Copia’s butt cheek and said “thank you for finding your way into my chambers tonight. You have made me a very happy man. Please, feel free to ease your pains the bathtub.”

Copia dragged himself to his feet, drunk with delight, and wobbled across the room. He stepped into the tub and eased his aching body into the warm soothing water with a deep sigh. It wasn’t long before Emeritus joined him. They fell into each other's arms and laid there in the bath together. Copia couldn’t help it, he was still very hard, he soon found himself deep inside Emeritus as they laid in the tub, kissing him over and over, the water lapping across their naked bodies as they moved. His orgasm long and bittersweet, he cried again. Emeritus dismounted and turned in his arms and they laid there covering each other in kisses, occasionally finding each other’s mouths again and tongues. 

Eventually, Emeritus retired to the bed and Copia, rose from the water too, covering himself with a soft towel he walked over to one of the tables and poured himself and Papa a glass of wine. Turning he noticed Emeritus laying there in the half-light, a few rose petals clinging to his still-damp skin, his eyes closed with a big dumb grin on his face. Copia loved him more than anything else, there had to be some way he could protect him from the Ghouls. A thought occurred to Copia and he moved to the bedside drawer. Papa seemed to be lost in his dreams as Copia found what he was looking for. Feeling sad that Papa needed such things, he emptied the entire contents of the small vial into the glass of wine that he then handed to a grateful Emeritus. Papa drank it down in one go as Copia moved around the room, snuffing out the candles. 

They made love again in the dark. Afterwards, as they fell asleep in each other's arms, Copia heard Papa say, “If I survive the tournament tomorrow, I will issue a new decree.”

“Oh?” Asked Copia, curious.

Papa yawned and said sleepily, “You will become my official consort.” He said.

“But what about the line of succession?” Copia asked.

“It never stopped Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator.” Ems replied, “there’s no reason someone else can carry a child. I’m sure we can find someone willing, perhaps that lovely little sister from earlier would oblige?”

“Hmm,” murmured Copia, “She would look very nice on you.”

“Or between us,” Emeritus whispered, “In Satan’s name.”

“Nema,” Copia replied, holding him tightly as his love fell into a deep sleep. 

🖤

The next morning Copia awoke and immediately checked on Emeritus. He laid beside him on the bed, still sleeping soundly. Copia had slipped enough of the sleeping draught into his drink that he was sure Emeritus would be out cold until well into the afternoon. Enough time for Copia to execute his plan. He rose from their love nest and stood at the washbowl, as much as he hated to lose his trademark moustache, it would give him away. He shaved it off and applied Emeritus’s facepaint. Dressed in Papa’s casual suit he looked at himself in the mirror, it fitted him okay, if a little loose, Emeritus did seem to prefer roomier attire to the Cardinal. He pushed his hair back with white-gloved hands and nodded to himself. Passable if one did not look too closely. He only needed to make it to the tiltyard undiscovered. 

Suddenly the smoke in the mirror behind him swirled and cleared. A hulking dark figure stood over him, their eyes red with fire, a pair of enormous horns adorned their head. Demonic wings unfolded behind them and encircled Copia as they placed their shadowy hands on Copia’s shoulder.

Strangely the Cardinal wasn’t afraid. He felt strong and proud. Loved and protected. Purposeful and confident. It was as if Satan himself was filling him with powerful unholy darkness. The determination to see this through. Did Copia do this with Satan’s blessing? Was his Infernal Majesty speaking to him directly? “Lord Lucifer,” Copia whispered, “I am forever in your service, please tell me, what would you have me do?”

Copia glanced round at the sleeping Papa in the bed. The love he felt for him burned eternal in the centre of his chest as hot as the sun. He would be Emeritus’s champion. Copia would die for him and join Satan in Hell triumphantly. He looked back at the mirror and gasped in astonishment. The shadowy figure had gone, but Copia had been forever changed. He stared back at himself, his left eye had gone entirely white. Satan had marked him as his own.

His heart full of pride, he returned to Papa’s side and bent low over his sleeping love once more. Copia planted a kiss on his lips and smiled to himself at the smudge of paint it left behind. Then left to take his place in the tournament.

The festival was still in full swing, but Copia had access to Papa’s exit down into the castle grounds, he emerged out into the ornamental gardens where he could slip around to the stables without being seen. He had thought it a wise decision to warn Papa’s steed that it would be him riding with him on this day, not Papa. 

Death, of course, knew the moment he saw the Cardinal that something was amiss. He whinnied loudly, tossed his flowing white mane, stamped his hooves and flashed his red eyes at the Copia when he entered his stall. “You are not Papa.” He said.

“No, I am not. I am here to take his place. Will you ride with me?” Copia stated directly with a small bow. Animals always appreciated honesty. This one also commanded great respect. No one knew of the beast’s origins, his association with his namesake or exactly how he came to be in the family. All they knew was that the horse was demonic, immortal and a gift from Satan.

Death regarded Copia for a few moments, before approaching and sniffing him. He then snorted, “You wish to die?” He said to Copia, “So be it.” And he tossed his head again.

“What makes you so sure we can’t win?” Copia asked, approaching and running his hands over Death’s muscular neck, giving him a good hard pat.

“Omega rides Arion of Podargos.” Death replied, “I am his Sire.”

“I see,” said Copia with understanding, “and you will not harm your son.”

“She was fierce and swift but I caught her,” Death proudly boasted, “she received me gratefully. Our son is strong.” He said pawing the cobblestones with his hoof.

Podargos was one of the Mares of Diomedes, demonic horses that fed on human flesh in the Old World. Copia had to admit Death’s boast was justified. Where Death had encountered such a being, Copia dare not guess. But he was beginning to understand why this encounter was considered to be so controversial.

“Papa would not harm Omega.” Death then declared. “They were lovers.”

Even though he had suspected it to be so, a sharp pang of jealousy kicked Copia in the gut. If Death had noticed he didn’t care and continued, swinging his head towards the door to the tack room. “They would often mount each other in there-”

“Okay, thank you,” Copia said sharply with a pained smile, he could hear people approaching from across the yard, “So you will help me?”

“I will carry you to your death,” pledged the beast.

_Comforting_ , thought Copia, and quickly left in the direction of the castle’s tiltyard, a purpose-built arena for jousting. Once there he entered Papa’s tent.

“Ah, Papa, there you are!” Exclaimed one of the squires as he emerged inside. “We were beginning to worry.”

Copia thought it best to speak as little as possible, thankfully most of his attendants seemed used to Papa’s silence as they beavered away around him, fitting him with his steel armour, polished to a high sheen. His helmet was lifted on last, it bore the skull-faced image of death, crowned in gold. Lastly, they covered him in silks befitting his assumed rank of Papa. 

With a fanfare, he emerged from the other side of the tent into a wave of applause, screams and chants of “Papa!” from the members of The Clergy and the faithful who lined the stands. Through the holes in his helmet, Copia spied the Royal Box, with banners flying high in the breeze. He could see Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil, as well as Emeritus the Second and First sitting in their seats beside an empty throne. He glanced down at the lower ranks of the Royal household where his own seat also lay vacant, privately glad at how he wasn’t sitting there instead, watching his love fall from his horse.

Copia was led to a mounting block while Death, now fully bridled and bedecked with floor-length robes of his own to match Papas, let out a half-screaming whinny while being led to the mounting block by a nervous young squire. Copia mounted and secured himself in the saddle, placing his steel-clad feet into the wide stirrups. Death tensed and tossed his head again. “Look at him.” He said, “I am his Sire.”

_The one-track mind of a stallion_ , mused Copia, as he looked across the arena. There was Omega, clad in similar steel armour, his tabard and standard black as the Ghouls usually dress, adorned with the familiar alchemical symbols of which the Ghouls had become known. Omega’s pacing horse was the colour of night. Arion was a sight to behold, tall and muscular, his mane and tail had been left to flow free, the wind took his thick forelock exposing a bright white star beneath, flanked by two shining blue eyes, not dissimilar from his master. He stamped his hooves impatiently on the other side of the arena, spirited and eager to prove himself in front of his Sire. He threw his head back and called out to him, his whinny loud and deep with demonic notes.

Copia took his lance from his squire and with their standard-bearers beside them both, the combatants approached the stands, fighting to keep their excitable mounts under control. It was tradition to receive the favour of a member of the audience before the joust, usually from a comely young member of The Clergy. Omega usually chose a new member of the faithful, she blushed the brightest of reds as she tied a piece of silk to his offered lance. Copia scanned seated members of the Sisterhood and found who he was looking for. He lowered his lance at the Sister from the night before. She looked up at him from under her veil and looked deep into his eyes as she tied a length of silk from her gown to Copia’s lance. If she knew it was not Papa before her, she gave no indication. 

The combatants took up their positions at the end side of the dividing rail. The shield bearers offered up the shields. Copia took his shield and adjusted to the weight. He saw Omega accept his with no trouble, he looked unconquerable upon his steed. Copia’s heart sank. How on earth would he unseat such a man? No not a man, a Ghoul upon a demonic horse. He glanced up briefly at the Royal Box and saw Sister Imperator shift in her seat a little closer to Nihil and slip her arm around his. She seemed nervous and that filled Copia with little confidence. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to channel a little of the power of Satan through him. Death stiffened beneath him and pulled on the bit, breathing heavily through flared nostrils.

In Papa’s absence, it fell to Nihil to start the first round. Sister Imperator released him as he stood and a hushed silence fell on the crowd. “Begin!” Nihil’s shout was hoarse and cracked with emotion, “Die well in Satan’s name.”

Death leapt forward with such force he almost unseated Copia then and there, only the weight of Copia’s armour held him fast in the saddle. On the other side of the arena, Arion sprung forward too and the two of them charged at each other, like two celestial bodies hurtling towards the earth. There was a moment when the sound of the crowd faded away and all Copia could hear was his own heartbeat, all he could feel was the jolt of Death’s hooves as they thundered into the ground. Copia aimed his lance high, straight for the Ghoul’s head. He didn’t want to hurt him, but he needed this to be over now. His lance glanced off Omega’s faceplate as they passed each other, while Omega’s lance found it’s mark and Copia’s shield shattered.

He swung back in the saddle briefly and could hear the gasps and screams from the crowd. Pain wracked his body from the force of the blow. He wondered if his arm had been broken. The only thing that saved him was Death who splayed his hooves, simultaneously stopping and turning on the spot as he swung his front legs around in a high rear. Copia could feel the horse gathering all his strength into his hindquarters for a return run. He leant forward in the saddle, shifting his weight to aid the horse’s manoeuvre, using the centre of gravity to keep him in the saddle. He gripped the beast between his legs and willed him on, one last try…

The last thing he could remember was the sound of the wind rushing in his ears, and a bird calling far off in the distance. All the screams of the crowd fell away as if behind thick glass. Omega’s lance hit him square in the chest and Copia was falling. He fell for what seemed like a lifetime. He didn’t remember ever landing. 

...

Copia opened his eyes and for a moment didn’t recognise where he was. There was a canopy above him, Papa’s bed, he was lying in Papa’s bed, in Papa’s chambers. Suddenly it all came flooding back, the portrait sitting, the kiss, the festival, the ghouls, his flight to Papa’s side, their intense lovemaking right here in this very bed. Where was Papa? Why did he hurt all over? _Oh, the joust… Would Papa be mad? Papa, where are you? My Papa..._

“Shush-sh-sh-sh-sh…” a familiar female voice said to him. She approached, stood over him and placed a cool hand on his head, “lie still now, you are still badly injured.”

Copia reopened the eye that didn’t hurt and spied Sister Imperator, rinsing a face cloth in a gilded bowl beside the bed, she wrung it out and placed it on his warm forehead. “Sister,” he managed to say. “Where is Papa?”

“You need not worry,” She said, “All will be well.”

“But Sister-”

She briefly held up her finger to cut him off. Then sighed, “My dear, sweet child. You always did have such a big heart! I suppose it is time to tell you the truth.” She sat down beside him on the edge of the bed.

What did she mean? The truth? Copia’s heart began to beat hard in his broken chest.

“Many years ago, I made a bargain with Satan. He gave me eternal life and a place at Papa’s side, in exchange for ever bearing him a child.”

Copia had suspected as much. He knew that Sister Imperator was immortal and no longer human. He looked at her and suddenly it all fell into place. Elizabeth. She was Elizabeth Bathory. This was her castle. That is how The Clergy had come into possession of it, and of her.

She regarded him with tears in her eyes and confessed, “I was jealous of all the girls who bore him a child. I was horrible to them, I beat them even. I made their lives a living hell because I was living in mine,” tears began to spill down her cheeks. She continued, “One night I couldn’t stand it any longer. I went to the Cathedral, prostrated myself on Satan’s altar and cried for absolution. I begged him for a child. He visited me then and there on the chapel floor and gave me you. You are my child, Copia. Mine and Satan’s!”

Copia was dumbstruck. “Whaaat? You’re saying that I am the son of Satan? I’m the… The Antichrist?”

She looked at him and placed her hand on his, “You are my child! You shall be the ruler of this Church and I am so very proud of you!”

“But Sister? Mother?” Copia could barely believe it. “What about Papa Emeritus the Third?”

“You need not worry about him.” She said with no small amount of venom in her voice, the fire returning to her eyes, “Or any of them. They’ve all been taken care of.”

“Sweet Lucifer in Hell, what have you done?” whispered Copia.

“I have righted a wrong. A wrong that was allowed to continue for far too many years. This Church has been put back on track. The line is once again demonic and pure.”

“Emeritus…”

“Do not despair!” Sister Imperator attempted to soothe him. “When you are better you will record our most ambitious offering yet. New Ghouls have been summoned. You will take your rats on the road and our message to the people. When you have travelled the length and breadth of this world singing His praises, when you have proven yourself, toured until you can barely tour no more, at one Final Ritual Named Death, you shall be rewarded.” She said, standing. 

Copia couldn’t look her in the eye. He turned to stare solemnly out of the window and across the estate. He heard Special’s words in his head, _“...Events have been set in motion that will see the rat become a king.”_

He heard Papa say _“...the pieces have already moved. Checkmate.”_

_He would be out there somewhere…_ thought Copia. His love was a half-demon after all, and demons never truly rest. _With enough invocation, perhaps… Oh Ems, my love. We were meant to be joined forever._

“And then?” Copia asked flatly.

“Then you will ascend to the throne and become the new Emeritus!” Sister Imperator declared.

“I don’t want a new Emeritus, I wanted Him!”

“Oh hush-hush, child. There are plenty more fish in the sea,” she said dismissively in the same tone she would use when talking to Papa Nihil. “Do not worry my son, afterwards we shall return to the Castle and hold the Saturnalia! Perhaps you will find your true consort then.” With that she swept from the room, closing the door behind her.

“...we are both prisoners here.” Copia thought he heard the Jester-Ghoul’s mad laughter.

He then looked across the room and to his horror and heartbreak, found himself face-to-face with the completed portrait. When it had been hung here, he couldn’t tell. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. But there it was, the picture of him and his Emeritus, hung not in the museum, but Papa’s bedroom, in pride of place.

I do not wish for a consort, thought Copia sadly. I was meant to be _his._

🖤

**Author's Note:**

> Dec 2020 Additional: this work was meant to be a prequel to a Twine Game ‘An Invitation From The Clergy’ which has been shelved and I am no longer writing for Ghost. I appreciate the kudos but I was really hoping someone from the fandom would offer me some feedback. Is it the pairing that offends? I can re-write it with any pairing you choose or a even as reader-insert. Is it the way that I’ve portrayed Special? I thought it was a clever interpretation and that others might be curious to find out more about his character in this world, his origin and where his story goes. Is it because I don’t use fanon names? That’s because all of my work is canon compliant and I’m proud of that. Also, I don’t believe the current era nicknames go well with a medieval-horror-romance. I know that is just my opinion. There’s nothing wrong with them, they just don’t work for this fic, trust me, I’ve tried it, it’s too jarring. And anyway, remember what Sister Imperator said, they are Nameless for a reason? Remember when they all discovered their names? It caused The Sundering. 
> 
> Thank you for your time. - A Cosmic Elf.


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